


Fake Smiles

by Humanity_Strongest_001



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Depression, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27643121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Humanity_Strongest_001/pseuds/Humanity_Strongest_001
Summary: He retreated into his room with his shoulders hunched: as if waiting for an attack by those damned voices that haunted him day and night. He collapsed onto the bed without grace, the thin walls could not block out the voices from downstairs. Obviously, no one would check on him, why would they, he thought, no one cared.
Kudos: 42





	Fake Smiles

** A/N: T/W: Self harm **

Mammon stormed away from his laughing and teasing siblings. He tried to ignore the teasing, the name-calling, but he really couldn't.

The voices were like a broken record that kept on playing the same cruel things repeatedly.

This caused him to hear Lucifer’s voice to unbury itself from his mind. The harsh words being shouted at him. However, he could find no escape by retracting into his mind. The attack came from it.

He stumbled into his bathroom, closing the door behind it, the click sounding like a gunshot through the voices whirling around his mind.

Mammon grabbed the blade taped to the underside of the cabinet, and half fell to the floor. He yanked down his trousers, and with shaking his hand he brought the cold blade down to the warm skin of his thigh. He shivered from the contact of the cold.

Mammon slashed at the skin when the torrent of voices dialled up a notch to just screaming shouting and then let out a sigh as the pain that helped him ignore the verbal attack. He pressed down harder onto the blade and blood rose quickly and dribbled down slowly from the deep cuts.

Mammon grabbed the black towel and mopped up the trails of blood on his thigh and the blood drops on the white tilled floor. He grabbed the first aid kit that he stole from the nurse office at RAD. He wrapped the bandages around his thigh. He threw the towel into the wash basket and placed the blade back into the cabinet.

He retreated into his room with his shoulders hunched: as if waiting for an attack by those damned voices that haunted him day and night. He collapsed onto the bed without grace, the thin walls could not block out the voices from downstairs. Obviously, no one would check on him, why would they, he thought, no one cared.


End file.
